


With Flowers In Hand

by canthelpmyselves



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Father figure Roy, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Mutual Pining, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:20:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22697764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canthelpmyselves/pseuds/canthelpmyselves
Summary: Ed knew what the flowers meant. He knew he only had one hope for a cure. But he wasn't about to say anything. He'd rather die than cause the man he loved that kind of guilt.
Relationships: Edward Elric/Jean Havoc
Comments: 10
Kudos: 131





	With Flowers In Hand

Edward Elric was more than an alchemy prodigy. He was a literal genius. Most people tended to forget that in the face of his quick temper and foul mouth. Most people also tended to favor his brother over Ed because Al was much more polite and pleasant. Ed had learned early on to use this to his advantage. It became a persona he hid behind so no one saw him clearly. The louder he was, the more volatile he seemed, the more people tended to avoid him when they could. 

It was a big help when he was a State Alchemist because he quickly gained a reputation as a loose cannon and that meant the brass expected less decorum from him. They expected him to break rules and disregard regulations. Even Al, the one he most worried would see through him, began taking him at face-value. The louder he was, the more people simply rolled their eyes and ignored him.

That state solidified once Al had his body back and Ed could no longer do alchemy. Oh, sure, there was a bit of scrutiny for a couple of days. Everyone they knew seemed to think they needed to express their sympathy for his loss of alchemy, but by week's end, the status quo had been resumed. Soon, it was Al everyone once more paid attention to and Ed who was able to blend into the background again. Ed had never been more thankful for that when he coughed up that first flower.

Ed first heard about Hanahaki while he and Al were still trying to research the philosopher's stone. There were only a couple hundred officially documented cases, spanning the last hundred years but each one had been well-documented. Plants formed in the soft tissue of the lungs and constricted air passages while the roots would eventually spread to other organs. The only cure was a true confession of love from whomever the victim was pining for. The type of plant varied from one person to the next and was often symbolic of the person needed to cure it. 

Ed didn't have to research deeply to discover the meaning of his. Gloxinia. Love at first sight. The vibrant purple blooms seemed to mock him, reminding him how easily the (very straight) object of his affections fell in love with anyone else but him. The last thing he needed was for anyone else to know how pitiful he was. So, Ed did what he could to minimize that risk. He took on any missions that would keep him away from Central, dragging them out as long as he could without raising suspicions.

He encouraged Al to go to university, even talking him into staying in a dorm so he could have a 'full college experience'. Living alone minimized the chances of anyone hearing or seeing him cough up whole gardens.

He dated, not because he particularly wanted to, but because it provided an excuse to avoid social obligations. Breda often teased him about being more of a player than Mustang, but for Ed it was a defensive maneuver, not a favored pastime. 

The hardest part to hide was the pain. In the beginning it was just a bit of discomfort, but after almost a year, Ed was in constant pain. He could feel the roots constricting his heart and lungs. Every breath burned in his chest. His throat was constantly raw and he had begun to avoid talking whenever possible to lessen the chances of a coughing fit. All in all, he was pretty proud of how well he had managed his illness.

* * *

Jean Havoc wasn't known for his intelligence. He wasn't stupid, by any standard, but he was easy-going by nature and a bit lovelorn, so people just assumed he was a little less smart than them. The one person who never seemed to disregard his intelligence was Ed. If anything, Ed was more on guard around him than around anyone else. It kinda hurt his feelings, to be honest. Especially whenever he saw the boss geeking out over the new radio recorder Kain had built from scratch, or the boss and Breda trying to outdo one another with puns. Even the chief had a closer friendship, and they had spent years snarling like cats and dogs. 

It wasn't like he felt left out (okay, maybe a little) he just felt like they could be closer. So, he tried to find some common interest, some thing that they could bond over. Only, Ed didn't drink. He didn't go to bars much at all. He didn't know anything about cars or guns. Jean didn't know anything about science or alchemy. They literally had nothing in common except that they were on the same team and neither of them had managed a long term relationship. Not exactly good bonding material.

And, okay, maybe he had a tiny crush on the younger man, but who could blame him? Edward Elric was a very handsome man, incredibly driven and intelligent. Most of the time Jean could ignore the attraction he felt. It’s not like Ed would ever look at him, after all. He dated super smart people, ones who studied stuff so far above Jean’s intelligence level, it was laughable.

Who was he kidding? He's so deep in love with the younger men, it’s ridiculous!

That didn't stop him from trying to get closer, though. Like now. The chief had a new assignment for Ed, but he wasn't answering his phone, so he had asked Kain to run over and deliver a message. Jean had quickly volunteered to go instead. He even offered to stop and grab some good coffee from the deli down the block as an incentive. Even Hawkeye seemed okay with that idea, so Jean didn't waste any time heading out.

Ed had moved into a tiny apartment near the university right after Al had started classes. Jean had only been there once, dropping him off during a rainstorm. Jean parked on the street in front of the building and darted inside, glancing over the line of mailboxes until he found Ed's name and apartment number. Luckily there was an elevator, so he didn't have to climb four sets of stairs. 

When he reached the right door, he smoothed his jacket and hair before knocking. Several seconds passed without an answer, so he knocked again. He could hear movement inside, but nothing else, which was a bit concerning. Why wasn't Ed answering? He raised his hand to knock a third time, but a loud retching cough reached his ears. Jean paused and leaned closer to the door. He could hear more coughing and a bit of gasping. Worried, Jean grabbed the door knob and turned it, surprised to find it wasn't locked. He pushed it open and froze in horror at the sight in front of him.

* * *

The double doors of the waiting room were flung open and Jean looked up as the team hurried inside. Hawkeye spotted him first and hurried over. Mustang and the others followed after her. 

“What happened?” demanded their CO gruffly.

Jean looked back down at his hands. There were still tiny pieces of flower petals clinging to the knees of his pants from where he had knelt on the floor and tried to steady Ed's body. Small smears of blood were under his nails, even after washing his hands three times.

“He… I...” Jean paused and sucked in a shaky breath. “I could hear him through the door,” he mumbled. “He sounded like he was sick, so I opened it up and...” He shook his head, trying hard to push the mental images away. “There were petals everywhere,” he whispered. “And blood. Like he'd been spitting them up for hours.”

“Petals?” Hawkeye repeated gently. “What do you mean?”

“Hanahaki,” the chief guessed, looking fearful. 

Jean nodded. “He passed out and I brought him here. Dr. Knox rushed him back for tests.”

Heymans sat down on the bench beside him. “Shit,” he muttered. “Never thought the Fullmetal Alchemist would get something like that.”

“The odds of contracting Hanahaki are 1 in 1.3 million,” Falman told them. “According to a study done in Aerugo five years ago, 79% of cases are terminal.”

“Let's focus on Fullmetal and not the numbers,” Mustang interrupted before the 2nd Lt. could explain anything else. 

“What do we do?” asked Kain. “I mean, the must be a cure, right?”

"Only a confession of love can cure him," Riza said gently.

“Who do you think it is?” Heymans wondered aloud. “That Rockbell girl?” 

Jean grimaced but kept quiet. She had been his first guess, but sitting here waiting for Knox to tell him how Ed was doing, he thought maybe he was wrong. Ed had known the young blonde most of his life. Anyone who ever saw them together could easily see that she was in love with Ed but that he viewed her as a sister. Besides, Ed mostly dated young college guys, very rarely asking out a female.

Next he thought maybe it was the Colonel but looking at them closely, it was clear that Ed treated Mustang like a father figure more than a romantic prospect. Ed was often annoyed at Mustang, but he was also the first one the blonde went to with problems or for help. Ed would probably never admit it out loud, but he looked to Mustang for guidance and support (and to argue with), not attraction or lust. 

He really hoped it wasn’t that Xing prince. The guy had returned to his country and, according to Alphonse, immediately built himself a harem. If he was the one… No! No, there was no way it could be that guy, Jean decided. The universe had already taken so much from the elder brother that it couldn’t do that to him, too. 

Thankfully the doors on the other side of the room opened and Dr. Knox stepped through, preventing the others from speculating. Jean jumped to his feet as they all focused on the doctor.

“Can anyone here explain to me why no one knew that young man is dying?” Knox growled. 

“How bad is it?” demanded Mustang.

“Did you miss the part where I said he’s dying?” Knox snapped. “He’s in the last stage. The roots are in his lungs, heart, stomach, kidneys and liver. He’s full of buds just waiting to bloom. I don’t even know how he’s able to breath, they’re so thick. He’s got three weeks, maybe a month.”

Jean dropped back down onto his chair, his knees giving out from shock. A month? But how could that be? Edward Elric always won! He’d defeated monsters and gods! He’s done the impossible more times than Jean could list! He was… he was indestructible!

“Is it still reversible?” Mustang asked quietly.

Jean looked at his commanding officer, seeing the same despair and shock he felt reflected in Mustang’s eyes.

Knox hesitated. “I don’t know,” he admitted softly. “I’ve never actually treated Hanahaki. I can only tell you that I’ve seen that boy overcome the odds before.”

Riza squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “We need to know who it is,” she said firmly.

Knox snorted and dragged a hand down his face. “Good luck with that,” he muttered. “I asked. Punk kid told me to get stuffed. Said he wasn’t letting anyone feel guilty for not wanting him.”

A low growl erupted from Mustang’s mouth. “We’ll see about that!” he snarled, stepping around Knox and stalking through the doors.

“Room 7,” Knox called out. “Good luck,” he said in a quieter voice before walking away.

Jean didn’t wait for an invitation, hurrying after his commander. The others were right behind him but they all stopped just inside the room to Ed’s room. Jean felt a flutter in his stomach (not unusual, considering the view of toned muscles and tight leather pants barely covering a rounded ass) as he watched Ed jerk a shirt over his head and smooth it down. Mustang was standing in front of him, expression furious.

“Get back in that bed, Fullmetal!”

“I’m fine,” the blonde insisted, sounding more tired than angry.

“You are ill!”

“No,” Ed corrected with a sigh, “I’m dying. Big difference.”

“Exactly!” Mustang shouted.

“And I’m not going to do it lying in a hospital bed,” Ed continued. “I have things to do.”

“Who is it?” Mustang demanded. “I want a name.”

“And I want a pink pony,” Ed quipped. “Guess we’re both disappointed.”

“Dammit, Edward, this isn’t a game!”

Ed paused and looked away, twitching slightly when he spotted the team. He locked eyes with Jean for only a second before dropping his head. “Yes, it is,” he said softly. “And I lost.”

“Fullmetal… Ed…” Roy reached out but the younger man dodged easily, snatching up his jacket as he headed for the door. 

The others around him tensed briefly before stepping aside, but Jean felt as if he was glued to the spot. As Ed slipped past him, he desperately tried to think of something to say to keep him from leaving but Jean’s mind was completely blank but for one thought.

_I’m going to lose him._

* * *

Ed grimaced as Al slammed the door shut as he stormed out of the apartment. Mustang had played his ace by calling Al and telling him Ed was dying. Ed had spent six hours listening to Al shout, beg, cry and plead with him for a name. Ed hated saying no to Al. It was something he had only done maybe a half dozen times in his whole life, but there was no way he was telling anyone who it was. He wasn’t going to cause anyone any more grief than he had to. It was bad enough they would mourn him, but to add guilt to that was unconscionable. He didn’t want to watch Jean trying to force himself to love Ed in some stupid attempt to save his life. Ed would rather take his secret to the grave than live knowing someone loved him only because they had to. 

With a heavy sigh, Ed slowly stood up, his weakened body protesting the motion, and made his way to his tiny kitchen. His throat was still raw so he grabbed a couple of the logenzines from where he had hidden them and popped them in his mouth. The honey taste that coated his tongue was too sweet, but they soothed the burning. 

“Um, Boss?”

Ed spun around, shocked to see Jean standing just inside the front door, watching him worriedly. He almost accidentally swallowed one of the logenzines before using his tongue to push it against his cheek so he could speak. “W-what…?”

Jean stepped further into the apartment and quietly shut the door. He was biting his bottom lip as he took a look around the room, his eyes momentarily resting on the now clean spot where he had seen those clumps of bloody flowers. “I, uh, was…” He paused and took a deep breath before looking back at Ed and holding up a ceramic bowl. “Wasn’t sure if you had supper yet so I brought some soup.”

Ed leaned back against the kitchen counter, needing the support since his legs were wobbly. “Mustang send you?” he asked stiffly.

Jean snorted and shook his head. “You know the chief is more likely to show up himself to interrogate you,” he corrected. “And if he did send someone…”

Ed huffed and nodded. “It would be Hawkeye,” he finished for the other blonde. Ed watched as Jean fidgeted for a couple of seconds before moving into the kitchen and setting the bowl down. He sucked aggressively on the candies, feeling that ominous tickle in the back of his throat that said more buds were opening. Being around Jean always made the plants act up.

“Boss?”

He looked away, hating the hesitant tone Jean was using, like trying not to spook a wild animal. “Don’t,” he croaked. “If I won’t tell Al, why would I tell anyone else?” 

Jean shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets, looking uncomfortable. “I wasn’t gonna ask that,” he mumbled.

Ed studied him carefully, looking for any hint of a lie, but he could tell the man he loved was being honest. “Then what?” he asked reluctantly.

Jean dropped his eyes and shrugged one shoulder. “I, um, asked Falman and he said…” he sighed and looked back up. “He said there was a surgery…”

“No!” Ed interrupted loudly. He hated that Jean flinched from his tone but he was too angry to do anything about it. “Never,” he swore.

Jean looked at him pleadingly. “If it saves your life, why not?”

“It doesn’t save my life!” Ed growled. “It saves my body. I’ll still be alive, but what kind of life is it when you cut away every ounce of emotion? I won’t love anymore. Not just y… him, but I won’t love anyone! Not Al, not Winry, not Elicia, not anyone! I’ll just be a meat sack, walking, breathing, eating but not caring! I’d rather be dead!”

Jean stared at Ed, a glimmer of understanding growing slowly in his eyes. “Oh,” he whispered after a long moment of silence. “I-I didn’t… Falman didn’t tell me that.”

Ed stumbled over to the table, his lungs straining after his outburst. He swallowed several times but he could feel the petals creeping up his throat. He tried breathing in through his nose, which sometimes helped but then Jean dropped down to his knees beside him and reached up to cup Ed’s cheeks.

“Boss?” he gasped, sounding scared. “Ed? Wha… what do I do?”

The moment he felt Jean’s fingers, Ed knew it was a lost cause. He wasn’t going to be able to keep this at bay. Petals, slick with saliva and stained with blood, burst from his mouth, falling in wet clumps on his feet. A few globs hit Jean’s shirt but the older man didn’t seem to notice or care. He rubbed Ed’s back gently until the coughing fit passed, then tugged Ed out of the chair and into his arms, standing and carrying Ed through the sitting room and into the bedroom. He gently laid Ed down, briefly considered calling the doctor but watching Ed shiver and curl up, all he really wanted to do was comfort the other blonde. Mind made up, Jean shrugged off his jacket and cavalry skirt, slid onto the bed and wrapped himself around Ed’s pale, shaky form.

Ed tensed, his golden irises almost obscured by his dilated pupils. “Wha… what are you doing?” he demanded huskily.

Jean curled his arms around Ed tighter and pressed their foreheads together. “I wish it was me,” he whispered roughly.

Ed tried to shove him away, but his hands were trapped in an awkward position so he had no leverage. “Stupid idiot!” he hissed. “Why would you want Hanahaki?!”

Jean sighed softly. “Not that,” he mumbled. “Wish it was me you loved,” he admitted. “God, Ed! I could love you. I do love you. Have for a long time. I-I know I’m not your type. I’m not as smart as the guys you date. I’m just a grunt soldier but there ain’t nothing I wouldn’t do to make you… ummph!”

Jean’s heart stuttered when warm, slightly chapped lips covered his. Two hands, one warm flesh and the other cool steel, twisted in his shirt and tugged him impossibly closer. When a slick tongue traced over his bottom lip, Jean stopped thinking entirely and rolled so that Ed was laying over him. He barely noticed the faint coppery taste of blood, too focused on the sensation of slender hips bracketing his waist.

“You absolute idiot!” Ed growled, sitting up and glaring down at Jean. “You love me? But you’re straight!”

Jean swallowed and reached up to gently undo Ed’s messy braid. “Uh, not really? I mean, never really been into guys until you. Heymans said you’re kinda my exception, I guess. I mean, I notice when a guy is attractive but you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted to actually be with.”

Ed shuddered and took a deep breath. A smile spread across his face as he stared down at Jean with adoration. “I can breathe better,” he said happily.

Jean blinked a couple of times before realizing what Ed was implying. “You… you can…”

“It’s you,” Ed said with a bright laugh. “It was always you, Jean. I love you, you idiot!”

Jean was fairly certain he looked like an idiot with his mouth hanging open as he stared up at Ed with shock. “You can breathe?” he repeated.

Ed nodded, laughing brightly again. “I can feel it clearing up!”

Suddenly Jean rolled them both over, pinning Ed to the mattress. “You moron!” he yelled. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me it as me? All this time…! You almost died!”

Ed slung his legs around Jean and crossed his ankles. “Didn’t want you to try and force yourself to love me,” he admitted, still looking more happy than apologetic. “I would have sworn you were completely straight and I wasn’t going to force someone love me.”

Jean gasped as Ed tilted his hips and pressed their crotches together. Yep, there was definitely a noticeable interest there. “Ed…” he moaned softly.

“Fuck, I’ve been in love with you since I was fifteen,” Ed admitted, his fingers making short work of the buttons on Jean’s shirt. “You were always chasing after some bimbo. Used to piss me off so much!” he grumbled, jerking the sides of Jean’s shirt apart so he could trail his fingertips down smooth skin.

Jean shivered and rolled his hips in response to the building heat between them. He grinned when that dragged a ragged gasp from Ed, but that only spurred the younger blonde on, it seemed. The next thing Jean knew, Ed was rolling them back over and attacked Jean’s belt.

“Aren’t we..., oh fuck!” Jean growled when calloused fingers slipped into the fly of his pants. He bucked against the firm stroke Ed gave his shaft before pulling him free of the material. “Aren’t we moving a bit fast?”

Ed wiggled down Jean’s legs and bent at the waist, a wicked grin on his face. “Six years, Major Havoc,” he purred. “I’ve already waited six fucking years.”

Jean’s eyes bugged out as that pink little tongue darted out and traced around the head of his shaft. “Oh fuck!” he exhaled, his head dropping back and his spine arching.

* * *

“Umm, what’s going on?”

Ed stood in the doorway of Mustang’s inner office, arms crossed over his chest, as he studied the room. Al was standing in front of a large bulletin board, covered in papers. Fuery, Breda and Falman were flipping through thick tomes scattered over Mustang’s desk. Hawkeye was typing up what looked like a list of towns Ed had been to. All of them looked toward Mustang, who hung up on whomever he had been speaking to. He cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back.

“Since you won’t tell us who you’re in love with, we’ve decided to find them ourselves,” he said smugly. He nodded his chin toward the bulletin board. “We’ve narrowed it down to eight possibilities.”

Ed raised one eyebrow as he walked further into the office and scanned the board. There were eight profiles pinned near the top. He snorted at a couple of names but rolled his eyes at the last one. He looked at Al crossly. “Russell? Really?”

Al squared his shoulders and nodded once. “Russell gets under your skin faster than almost anyone else.”

“Because he’s a jerk and arrogant,” Ed argued. He pointed to the third profile. “The Bastard?”

Mustang smirked at him. “I told them it wasn’t me but Riza insisted.”

Ed snorted before moving closer and punching Roy’s shoulder softly. “Please. We’d kill one another inside of a week.”

“What about Rose?” Al asked, reaching out to tap her paper.

“Same as with Winry,” Ed shrugged. “She’s practically family.”

“Brother…”

“It’s none of these people,” Ed interrupted.

“Would you even admit it if it were?” Riza asked gently.

“Hey, Boss, I got 3 cherry danishes, an apple fritter and four chocolate croissants for the team,” Jean said, strolling into the office, his attention on the contents of the pastry bag in his hands. “Sorry but they were all out of the blueberry muffins you like.”

Ed smirked as he turned and crossed the room. He snatched the bag from Jean’s hands and tossed it to Falman. “Thanks, babe,” he grinned before pulling Jean down for a deep kiss. 

When they separated Ed looked around the room with a grin. Riza was watching them curiously. Mustang looked surprised but happy. Al looked shocked. Fuery and Falman looked confused and Breyda was grinning from ear to ear. 

Jean turned Ed around so his back was pressed to Jean’s chest. “So, did Boss mention that he’s cured?”


End file.
